


The Weather Outside is Frightful

by StarksInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarksInTheNorth/pseuds/StarksInTheNorth
Summary: Outside Winterfell, a storm rages. But inside the castle's walls, Jon and Sansa find a moment of peace with each other.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	The Weather Outside is Frightful

**Author's Note:**

> This was written originally in 2016 or 2017. Slightly edited and reposted.

The snow in the North fell delicately, most of the time. But them sometimes a wind would howl, loud as a wolf, and throw the snows so hard in travelers' faces that they could not see their hand in front of their faces, let alone to the crest of the next hill. These storms scared people in ways that left them to tell stories of the storms that made it seem as fierce as the Others, stories repeated until their own children's children had children.

Jon grew up in the North and lived for years at the wall. No longer did the delicate swirls of snowflakes enchant him as they did newcomers, nor did the harsh winds and blinding white scare him as they did so many others. As long as he could remember, it was the sleet and hail storms that had mesmerized him. The sleet, rain and ice and snow all in together, reminded him ever of his strange place in the Stark family. Despite his name, he was the rain - not quite snow but not just air, part but not a part. And the hail, frozen pieces of the sky that rained down over them all, harsh and unforgiving - that was the true, resilient spirit of the North.

They would need hail now, he thought, watching the snowstorm that raged outside the window of his study. A fire crackled hot and bright in his hearth, and Ghost sat at the foot of his great stuffed chair. The water pumps that sent water through the walls of the keep from the hot springs beneath it had been restored, and with it the natural heating of the castle. Shelves of books of every topic - history, agriculture, stories, metal forging - lined the walls. One was open on the small table next to the chair, and more were stacked high upon his desk. There was a warmth to the room that typically escaped his similar space at Castle Black, but even then something else was missing.

So, too, did the storm miss something. The snow outside was not quite delicate but not yet hard, a blend of fluff and power. He hoped for harsher snows soon, because while it would make it harder for his soldiers to travel in, it would also make it more difficult for their enemies to travel and fight in. At least as men of the North, his own men were used to the wintery rages.

Jon continued to study the territory outside, the dark grey clouds that hung over the former battlefield and wintertown. The space was in a tower that stood in the corner of the keep, with sweeping views of all the lands near Winterfell. On a clear day, he could see halfway across the wolfwood. Today is not one of those days.

A knock on his door startled him from his thoughts. Jon called to the person behind it, "Yes? Come in."

"Jon?" Sansa opened the door tentatively. "How are you doing?"

He smiled welcomingly at her, taking in the simplicity of her grey gown and the single plait of her bright red hair that hung down her back. "Aye. I'm just admiring the weather, now."

"It's not the fiercest storm we've seen here." She reminded him, pushing the thick wooden door closed with her foot. In her hands she carried two steaming mugs of tea. "I'm sure the people in the wintertown are fine."

The scent was strong even from where he stood, steps away - mint, the sweeter, southern kind that Lady Catelyn always made sure was grown in the glass gardens for when she couldn't sleep or the children fell ill. Once or twice, she'd even given him some of the special tea, although it was brought by Robb or one of his brothers. He was startled to find the mint had survived the Boltons' conquest of the keep, in ways so few of his old memories had.

"I know. I wasn't actually thinking much about strategy in this weather, for once." He knew it was a mild lie, but most of his thoughts had centered on the ethereal beauty of the storm outside, following the squalls and ripples of the snow. "How was your day? I have not seen you since dinner last."

"It was well. Led the maidens in their sewing, and went over the granary report from Last Hearth twice."

Jon laughed at that. Even he knew that Sansa's skills with numbers were nothing compared to her other talents. "Did Ser Davos check it over?"

Sansa glared at him, but he knew it was playful. She was by his side now, and pressed the warm ceramic mug into his hands. He breathed in the hearty scent of tea, and the tinge of her lavender perfume that followed her wherever she went. "I know this room is warm, but I thought you might still like something to warm you up inside."

More than anyone, Sansa understood the cold that came with darkness. Especially the darkness he had felt, returned from the dark of death and whatever was after. He smiled again and took a sip of the minty tea. Leaves of the herb floated in the drink, adding a special, fresh taste to its contents. The swallow filled his throat with warmth, and the extra heat the room had lacked felt like it was returned. This - a good drink and better company - helped him feel more at peace in the room that had been Robb's and Lord Stark's before him.

"Thank you, Sansa." Jon took another thick swallow.

Sansa moved to sit herself in the window seat in front of him, legs tucked up underneath her body and forehead pressed against the chilly, frosted glass. She held her own mug in her lap and idly dragged her finger to draw swirls and stars upon the glass. A contented look spread across her face, slowly then all at once. She glanced up at Jon with a smile on her lips, her entire appearance more relaxed than she has seemed in weeks, then turned back to the window.

Jon moved closer and leaned on the wall directly next to her, two people watching a great winter storm. Above her, he was sure she can feel the heat emanating off his body in great waves. He hoped his presence can offer her some feeling of protection. Before the battle, she told him _no one can protect anyone_ , but Jon knew that's not true. Because protecting Sansa is all he is designed for, the only reason he has left to live in this cruel world. Outside, gales of wind pushed against the snow, moving it faster than it had been falling. The swirls of frost against the window were melting somewhat from the close heat of Sansa's body, and it was almost sad to see their beauty disappear.

"I haven't felt this safe in years." Sansa whispered, voice so low he almost didn't hear her. She turned her head to look up at him with her intense blue eyes, softer now than normal. "Thank you, Jon. I couldn't have returned without you."

Jon brushed his free hand against her shoulder and squeezed, feeling Sansa lean into his touch. "It was the both of us. We were both lost and in need of salvation and we found it, together."

Sansa set her hand against his own and leaned her head on them both. Heat pulsed up his skin from the soft, sweet touch of her cheek. Jon leaned his own head against the wall and relaxed in the caress of her hand on his and the companionship that drew them closer with each storm that threatened them, man or nature.

They sat there, together, a moment in peace in the long war they still had to fight. The storm raged outside but there was warmth again in Winterfell and he knew everything else would be alright, and fall into place in an easier way then the snow, sleet, and hail outside.

"Why don't you sit with me?" Sansa said, indicating the other half of the window seat. Despite his grumbling protests, she pulled her legs closer to her body so there was just enough room for both of them. Jon took the seat and watched as Sansa drew two horizontal lines with two vertical ones through it. "Play with me!"

Jon rolled his eyes. "Must I? I haven't played since we were children."

" _Jon_ ," she said, her voice singing his name. "Just one game, _please_?"

He was helpless under her lovely gaze. With a sigh, Jon drew a cross in the center of her board. He leaned back and took another sip of his tea. Sansa won their game of cross-and-circle easily, but he believed he truly won in the end, when she leaned in close and fell asleep on his shoulder. 

Jon held Sansa close, keeping a tight grip around her. He pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead and smiled. A storm may rage outside, but inside Winterfell there is peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, then come hangout on [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) for more ASOIAF speculation and GOT fun. I also take prompts in my [ask box](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask/).


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